Devendra Banhart Rambles About Selling Out, Beck, New Album

He also talks about some other stuff we're still trying to figure out.

Devendra Banhart is nutty, sure. But it's a good kind of nutty. Talking to him is like talking to a self-critical, hippie-leaning screwball comedian-- tangents, lewd jokes, and an overall sense of randomness are guaranteed. Then, every once in a while, he'll drop the silly voices and bust out a trenchant John Cage quote about the nature of art and you remember there's more to this guy than summer-of-love revivalism and cross-dressing.

His new album, What Will We Be, is out on October 27. And while many major label bands are jumping ship for indies nowadays, Banhart's going the opposite direction; the album marks his first for Warner Bros. Records, home of the Flaming Lips, the White Stripes, and Ashley Tisdale. So how does this fiercely independent spirit explain the major label move? He candidly broaches the subject in the following interview, and also talks about working with Beck for his Record Club project, "shooting alcoholic beverages up your asshole," and why he feels like an old woman nowadays:

Pitchfork: How are you?

Devendra Banhart: I'm crapulous-- which doesn't mean crappy. It means that I feel like I'm gonna go crazy. Maybe I'll do water shots off some Japanese bitches.

Pitchfork: Sounds very rock'n'roll.

DB: Actually, I go to bed and wake up really early now. My gadabout days are over. I mean, what's more punk than going to bed at 8:30 after a tall glass of distilled water? I have an old-lady schedule.

Pitchfork: But you're only 28-- you're young.

DB: Well, aren't you sweet. See, there are four stages to matter: solid, liquid, gas, and plasma. I'm just one big sack of gas these days. I'm sorry, we're really veering off the subject-- another attribute of old age! I'm not a hippie; I'm not even me. But I'm contradicting myself by saying "I'm not a hippie" and then saying hippie shit like, "I'm not even me." What's going on? Who am I? Can I be K.D. Lang for the day?

DB: It was very, very fun. First off, Beck is like the best musician in the world. He doesn't mess up. He's like a heavyweight bodybuilding champion. He starts to sing and everyone is quiet and, like, "Holy shit." And the MGMT dudes are musical polyglots, I had no idea. I was like the black sheep because I don't know how to sing, play guitar, anything. I'm not sure why I was there, but it was awesome.

Pitchfork: Does contributing to a project like that make you want to be more spontaneous with your own work?

DB: I'm trying to record with this aleatoric approach implemented by people like John Cage, where the general structure is written out and the details are left up to chance. It's really important to consider your environment, because you're literally collaborating with nature while you're recording. That's why I've never recorded in a super controlled environment like a professional recording studio. I don't think it's respectful to exclude the rest of the world. For example, I was recording a song for this last record and while I was playing a fly landed on my nose. That changed the the cadence, the vibration, the emotiveness-- the entire song. I want to be able to collaborate with the unknown. That's our job.

Pitchfork: So you're trying to get further into this idea of controlled spontaneity.

DB: Definitely. There's a quote from John Cage: "The function of art is not to communicate one's personal ideas or feelings, but rather to imitate nature in her manner of operations." That's a really heavy statement, especially for somebody like me who's essentially communicating my personal ideas and feelings. But he's saying it's about imitating nature. So how can I implement that into my songwriting? I ask myself, "Is there some form of service in this song?" That's an important thing, like, "How can I help you?" I hope this doesn't sound super-pretentious-- and I'm not thinking I'm helping anybody whatsoever with my music-- but I don't want it to be this "me, me, me" thing.

Pitchfork: Who would you be servicing with your music, then?

DB: The music is made to be shared. I'm not thinking, "Oh man, I'm on a major label now-- I'd better sell this album." This is my definition of selling out: When you change what you do or do what you do as a reaction to someone else's expectations or lack of expectations.

Pitchfork: That sounds like a real "damned if you do, damned if you don't" scenario, though.

DB: I totally agree, and that's really a personal thing for me. I can't control what your definition of selling out is. But the record is not the way it is because of any concern other than how it has to be. What do you think? Is it more slick than the last record? Sock it to me.

Pitchfork: If you told me this was another album on XL and not Warner Bros., I would have believed you. Take that as you will.

DB: I will take it! It's important to acknowledge that this record wasn't made for Warner Bros. We made it, and then we saw who wanted to put it out-- who wanted to lose money, basically.

Pitchfork: It seems that that there's more of a migration away from major labels nowadays, but you're going against the tide.

DB: That's right! I'm going against the establishment by joining the establishment! Here's the thing: Indies and majors are much more intimately related and involved than people realize. I'm going with Warners because the majors have been humbled by this giant gaping hole in their finances. The internet and file sharing has shocked them into a weird reality. I met with Warners and they treated me like an indie; I met with a couple indies and they talked to me like a major.

Pitchfork: Was that a trip?

DB: Of course! When I imagine meeting with a major, I think of a fat white guy with a cigar, like [hokey voice], "We're going to have you play at the Holiday Inn! Red Bull sponsorships! We're gonna make you a star, kid." And the indies being like [calming voice] "Yeah, man, whatever you want, no contracts." But it was the complete opposite. And it was shocking that a major would want anything to do with me-- I'm not Chumbawumba. So that was intriguing. And, really, I just want to be label mates with Paris Hilton.

Pitchfork: Do they have a Paris poster hanging up in the Warners offices?

DB: They have a lot of posters. They have a giant photograph of Miles Davis holding a white baby. I think I'm going to get that image tattooed on my face. The guy from Mastodon gets some tribal shit; I'm going to have Miles holding a white baby.

Pitchfork: I remember reading about how Jeff Buckley saw posters of Bob Dylan and Miles Davis in the Columbia offices before he signed with them, and how that's a powerful thing-- that sort of legacy.

DB: What do you mean, like, having a brewsky? Or boofing?

Pitchfork: I don't follow.

DB: Boofing is the popular practice of shooting alcoholic beverages up your asshole because the capillaries in your intestine absorb the alcohol quickly so if you get pulled over you can't get a DUI. That's where my joke came from.

Pitchfork: Bob Dylan does that?

DB: He's boofing some wheatgrass-- there's your pull quote. But, I mean, Built to Spill is on Warner Bros. You can't fuck with Built to Spill. The Flaming Lips! Unfuckable. They're a true savant institution. Linkin Park! Ow!

Pitchfork: [laughs] What are some things that Warner Bros. can do for you that no one's been able to do for you before?

DB: Well, for one, they won't release a music video until I've seen it and approved it.

Pitchfork: Was that a problem before?

DB: You obviously haven't seen many of my videos! And I hope that you never do. Other than "Carmensita" and "Little Yellow Spider", every video I've made has been a complete fucking mess of incompetence and deception. And the labels have released the videos without me seeing them-- incomplete videos that make no sense and make me look even dumber than I am. It's shocking. I've shot videos that should be fully animated that were released without any animation.

Pitchfork: But you approved the one for "Carmensita", right? That's great as is.

DB: Yeah, but it came out a year after the record. That's another thing I told Warner's: "Can we make a video and put it out when the record comes out?" I'm not going to let that shit happen again. Also, with the "Carmensita" video, I was too busy falling in love with Natalie [Portman] while making it to have any say. I'm not going to make a great video, but I'm going to make an atrocity of a fucking video, either.

Pitchfork: What are some videos that you think are great?

DB: A-Ha's "Take on Me". Grizzly Bear's "Knife" is one of the best videos of all time-- everything Encyclopedia Pictura has done is really incredible. I talked to them, but Bjรถrk offered them a lot more money. I really can't afford them. But it's OK; right now we're working with Ron Winter, who just did MGMT's "Kids" video and he's just awesome.

Pitchfork: I listened to the new album a few times today, and there seems to be less searching going on, sonically. There are more ballads, less guitar solos...

DB: I hope that you're not disappointed by the relative lack of noodling. Maybe the next record will just be straight-up noodling. I'll call it Up in Noodlesville or Noodlehontas Rides the East-Drawn Train or Noodle Me Bad.

Pitchfork: Is it hard for you to put the zanier parts of your personality on hold when you're making an album? I feel like there are less left-field moments on this record compared to the last two.

DB: All the records I've made have been peppered with a couple little insouciant, joking tunes that are for fun. Like I'm trying to write weird bubble-gum pop. But this record I tried to get all of that out with the one song, "Chin Chin & Muck Muck", which I sing from the point of view of an old woman because that seems to be who I really am. I go to bed at 8:30, I drink warm milk, I watch my shows. I like it.

Pitchfork: You're a prolific guy and now you're on this label famous for people like Neil Young, who have all these albums. Is that kind of 40-LP career something you aspire to?

DB: Well, this is the sixth record and they all suck. So the goal is to make a good one at some point. And there are a lot of side projects that need to be completed.

Pitchfork: Like what?

DB: There's an all-harmonium orchestra led by me called Droney Mitchell. I want to do a record with Adam Green of all German schlager songs. There's a band called Divorce Exotic Pet, another one called Tits Discovering Satial Thirst for Bats, the Goth Hotels, Matchmaking Native Americans and the Nightlifes, New Age Men's Issues, Paranormal Rave Culture, or Paranormal Rave Couture, depending on how you look at it. I want to collaborate with R. Kelly some day.